


The (Hotel) Room Where It Happens

by thelittlelion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, PWP, Under-negotiated Kink, Whatever this is Hamilton started it!, hoping I accounted for all the body parts, patriotic porn, tried to write hate sex and failed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5676598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/pseuds/thelittlelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing good ever comes from a knock in the middle of the night. </p><p>Before tonight, Thomas might have claimed that the only thing worse would be finding Alexander Hamilton outside his door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The (Hotel) Room Where It Happens

**Author's Note:**

> If your first time writing porn invokes the Found Fathers, is that a point for or against your citizenship?

Nothing good could come from a knock in the middle of the night. Thomas came awake with the groan. He half-mumbled for Sally to answer the door, frowning when silence answered. It was only as he sat up and registered the sadly familiar sensation of hotel blankets stretching taut across his chest that he remembered – this was to be another night away from his sweet Virginia in service to his country. 

“Motherfucker.” 

Thrown rudely awake, his gut lurched at the thought of another potential crisis, as if his life didn’t detail fixing America’s greatest problems on the regular. Consciousness hit him with a surge of adrenaline. Fumbling to turn the light switch he pushed his way out from under the sheets. He reached for his phone – though it wasn’t like him to sleep through the pings of incoming emails – only to find the device silent as a grave, no new notifications since his last exchange with James a few hours before. 

All the while the knocking at the door continued incessantly. Short of a political nightmare, there was only one person stupid enough to wake the Secretary of State up at 3am in the fucking morning. 

“Oh, he did not!”

Slamming down his phone, Thomas crossed the room in three angry steps. Unbolting the door, he yanked it open, nearly toppling over the small man half-leaning on the other side, one fist still poised to rap.

Hamilton. That _goddamn, arrogant, reckless, annoy –_

“Jefferson. Finally!” the younger Secretary had the gall to roll his eyes and look irritated. “What the hell took you so long? I’ve been knocking forever. Did you forget how to open a door?” 

Hamilton (as usual) looked a mess. Half-dressed in a worn Columbia hoodie, he stood with bare feet sticking out over the working day’s dress slacks. Stands of his hair had fallen loose from their tie to frame the familiar manic fever lighting up his dark eyes. Overall, he gave the impression as if he might fall down at any second, though his narrow shoulders practically vibrated with unnerving energy. 

Thomas very carefully did not invite him in, filling up the doorway with his superior frame. 

“Hamilton,” he spat the name. “It’s three in the fucking morning. If the president’s not on fire, you better have a goddamn brilliant reason for waking me up.”

“You were asleep?” Hamilton blinked wide-eyes at him. He seemed honestly surprised. Luckily, Thomas didn’t give a fuck what the younger man thought of him.

“Okay. You know what? _Goodnight,_ Mr. Secretary.” 

Turning, Thomas slammed the door, only to hear it thwack heavily against the barefoot Hamilton had abruptly wedged into the frame. 

“Ow! Jesus Christ, that hurts! What the fuck is your problem? Open the door, Jefferson.”

He didn’t wait. Pushing roughly against the door, Hamilton elbowed his way into the room, taking advantage of Thomas’ momentary surprise. Cursing up a storm, the man sat down onto Thomas’ bed clutching at his foot.

“You’re a motherfucking asshole, Jefferson,” Hamilton scowled, glaring fiercely. 

Rage like a wave of fire rolled through his body. Thomas threw the hotel door closed before stalking over to Hamilton. Gathering two fists full of his sweatshirt, Jefferson yanked the smaller man off his bed and spun him around, pushing him towards the door. Hamilton yelped, a look of alarm crossing his face before the door caught his fall. At once, the man’s face drew back into a familiar picture of outrage. 

“Did you just _throw me!_ ” 

“What, like it’s hard?” Thomas taunted, unable to stop the wide grin spreading across his face. Yap all Hamilton wanted, Thomas relished in his physical upper hand. 

“That’s assault! You bastard, you just wait until Washington hears about this! Or better yet – the press. Good luck clear that one up, asshole!”

“Hamilton, get the fuck out of my hotel room,” Thomas growled, unperturbed by the threats. Let Hamilton try to pull that card with the President after all of the shit he started during the campaign. Not even Washington could be that bias. 

“I will not!” Hamilton crossed his arms, pouting like a child. 

Aggravation poured down Thomas’ spine. He advanced on the other man until the other was forced to crane his neck up to meet his eyes. “Look, Hamilton,” he began, voice flat, finger pressing against the other man’s chest. “It’s three in the morning and as much as you get off thinking you can subside on caffeine and egotism some of us actually sleep at night. I don’t know who you think you are that you can just barge in here without an explanation, but you are goddamn mistaken if you think that I’m gong to listen to you make threats against my career. Now get the fuck out before I call security – then we’ll see whose dealing with what press, huh?”

For a moment, they glared at each other in silence. Thomas could see Hamilton’s jaw working as he glared. Then, abruptly, Hamilton smirked and his expression turned wicked. 

“Try it,” he taunted. Before Thomas could speak, Hamilton was sliding to the floor and Thomas’ mind was going curiously blank as the movement – familiar in an entirely different context – threw his working mind out of order. For a moment he became terribly aware that he was wearing nothing but a pair of light, cotton pajama pants. His mind zeroed in on the fact that Hamilton’s head was now located with extreme proximity to his scarcely covered cock, which was suddenly taking an extreme interest in the situation. Like a flood released, his mind began churn out images of the many wondrous possibilities that Hamilton’s prodigious mouth could be put to work on. 

It took several long seconds for his senses to return to him. Shoving the wildly inappropriate thoughts from his head, Thomas refocused on the reality of the situation at hand. He found himself looking down at Hamilton’s triumphant face as he planted himself with crisscrossed legs against the door. 

“You call security and we both end up in the news. You want me to move – _make me._ ”

Despite the soundness of his rebuttal, the look in Hamilton’s eyes immediately sent Thomas’ thought careening off course again. Could he be blamed though? The look on Hamilton’s face was one that Thomas easily recognized; yet he was surprised at the hunger it awakened in his own body. 

He’d fought with Hamilton so long the man had coalesced in his mind as an annoying, ill-dressed, loud-mouthed pain, stripping him of characteristics Thomas didn’t need to know to count the man his enemy. Now he found himself rereading the lines in Hamilton’s body, taking in the man’s slight frame and seeing the way his dark hair curled against his neck as it fell loose. Everything in Hamilton’s person spoke of a brittle tension, one cold gust or missed meal away from disaster. Yet, the challenging smirk on the man’s face as he glared up at him spoke of a tenacity to fight and scratch and survive that Thomas found himself suddenly yearning to see how had he could push it. 

Something in his expression must have shown, as Hamilton’s grin grew even filthier. He tipped his head back, exposing the long lines of his throat. 

Thomas let the moment stretch on, feeling the reigns of his self-control begin to stretch. Did he want this? He wasn’t blind to his own desire – unexpected as it was. Still, a word of caution needled him. He needed to see – 

He let left hand fall onto Hamilton’s forehead, sweeping it back until he could gather the hair at the back of Hamilton’s skull and drag the man’s head back even further. The man let go of his grin with the strain, but his eye continued to seek Thomas’, showing no hesitation. When Hamilton bent with no resistance, Thomas allowed his other hand to cup the man’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb against the man’s stumbled cheek in a slow, deep motion, not so much cradling his face as seizing it. He watched the other man’s eyes darken as his thumb drew over his bottom lip, passing the digit back and forth against the soft surface. 

Hamilton put up no fight as the digit slipped into his mouth, drawing his jaw open. Without pause, Thomas switched his thumb with two long fingers he pressed firmly into Hamilton’s hot mouth. 

Hamilton responded at once. Sucking on the fingers, he drew them deeply into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around them like a promise, he pressed up to lick into the space between the two digits. 

Thomas spread his fingers, claiming Hamilton’s mouth in an obscene stretch. He pressed them deep into the Treasury Secretary’s mouth, feeling the dip of the man’s throat. He could not help thrusting his fingers in and out of Hamilton’s mouth, which closed around him and hummed so eagerly. 

Sweet Jesus. Thomas pulled his fingers from Hamilton’s mouth, rubbing the spittle over the man’s face and through his hair. He stroked the man roughly over his scalp before pulling all the way back. 

“Okay, so we’re doing this.”

“Finally caught up, have you?” Hamilton quipped, his light words belying the new roughness to his voice. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer sometime tonight.”

Thomas ignored him. Stepping back to his bed, Thomas sank down onto the mattress. He gloried to see that Hamilton didn’t move from his sitting position, though his eyes tracked all of his movements intently. Letting the moment drag on, Thomas dragged one hand through his hair as he planned out his next move. This wasn’t the way that he typically rolled, but whatever – he was nothing if not flexible and it wasn’t as though he didn’t know anything about Hamilton’s proclivities before this moment. 

“Is there a reason you’re still wearing clothes, Hamilton?” he said, ignoring the obvious bait on his temper. “I haven’t got all night, Mr. Secretary.” 

Hamilton’s eyes gleamed, but he said nothing. Rather, he hooked his thumbs under his hoodie and shucked it off across the room. He wore no shirt underneath, but ink stains covers his arms up to the elbows. Thomas was surprised to see several rows of neat script crawling over his skinny ribs, though from the distance he couldn’t make out the tattoo’s words. Uncrossing his legs, Hamilton stood up and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them off along with his briefs in one quick, unselfconscious movement. Naked and on the wrong side of skinny, Hamilton did nothing to hide his body from Thomas’ roving eyes. Taking in the scars of Hamilton’s time in the military, the puckered pieces of skin that spoke a light hard won, Thomas allowed his eyes to trail down the nest of dark curling hair to the cock that stood already at half-attention. 

“Satisfied?” 

“Hardly,” Thomas drawled. He pointed a finger to the floor. “Down you go. I always thought you’d look better on your knees.”

“Oh, how original,” Hamilton jeered. He obediently went to his knees regardless, even clasping his hands behind his back in a not displeasing display. Certainly not his first time then, not that Thomas expect it to be.

Thomas surveyed the sight with relish before standing up and taking off his own pants. Walking to the other man, Hamilton’s eyes at last dropped from his face to watch as Thomas took himself in his own hand and began to stroke his member slowly, drawing it up to full erection. Hamilton’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, only for him to freeze as his face and neck quickly turned into a deep blush. He carefully did not look at Thomas. 

“My, my, so eager,” Thomas tsked. 

“Fuck off,” Hamilton growled, eyes darting to glare at Thomas before they were drawn, almost against his will, back down to Thomas’ hand working his cock. 

Thomas’ unoccupied hand found it’s place in Hamilton’s hair once more and he fisted the strands at the back of the man’s neck keeping him in place as he stroked his cock a few inches in front of his face. Hamilton scowled, even as his eyes tracked the moment with rapt attention. 

After a full minute, he began to wriggle in Thomas grip, hands coming up from behind his back to grip Thomas’ thick thighs. “Let me go,” he demanded, glaring at the other man. 

Thomas smirked, taking the distraction to smack Hamilton the side of the face with his dick. “No,” he smiled. Affront bloomed red-hot on to Hamilton’s face. Thomas repeated the movement, watching as the man’s blush deepened. 

Seeing the storm clouds over the young man’s brow gather, Thomas sidestepped the coming break by pressing the tip of his cock against Hamilton’s lips, not pressing it in, but rubbing it back and forth slowly as had before with his thumb. Hamilton’s brewing tirade died and his jaw fell lax. Precome smeared across his lips as Thomas continued to draw out the moment. Hamilton’s eyes flicked up and down between Thomas’ face and cock. His chest worked as he began to breath heavily, hot pants playing on Thomas’ member. 

It was enough. Thomas stopped the teasing movement and pressed in earnest against the smaller man’s lips, whose mouth opened at once, greedily taking in his cock as he pressed himself inside. Thomas groaned as the wet heat consumed him, both hands coming up to fist into Hamilton’s hair. 

At once Hamilton got to work. The hands on Thomas’ thighs slid up, one taking firm hold of the base of his cock while the other dug into the meat of his thigh, pulling him in. Like every other action in his life, Hamilton set a relentless pace, sucking hard with each bob of his head. 

Thomas began to talk.

“Jesus. Yes, you like taking my dick, don’t you Hamilton? God, you’re working my cock like a goddamn _whore._ ”

Hamilton moaned – and wasn’t that interesting? Thomas released an answering groan as the man beneath him sucked on the tip of his cock, tongue swirling against the slit of his head. 

“Fu- _uck!_ Yeah, just like that. How cocks have you sucked to be so skilled Hamilton? Huh? Does Washington know about this little talent of yours?” 

Another moan from Hamilton. Thomas’ hips bucked as the man’s nails dug into his ass. “Or maybe the President already knows. Do you want to show me how good you can be for him? Can you take me all the way to the back of your throat and just – nngh!”

Hamilton took the challenge, dropping the hand on his cock as he sucked Thomas’ cock down into the convulsing muscles of his throat, sealing his lips to the root of Thomas’ penis. Thomas’ shivered a moment in ecstasy, body bending over the body beneath him. 

Hamilton set a new pace, drawing back to the tip and then swallowing him down again and again. Thomas’ hips began to buck without his control, but Hamilton made no move to restrain him. 

Looking down, Thomas watched as Hamilton took him deep into his throat, all the while maintaining nothing short of a challenging glare in his eyes. On this go, Hamilton remained at the root of his cock, not pulling back for several long seconds until Thomas’ own hands tugged at him. 

Thomas took the hint. Batting Hamilton’s hands from his ass, they clasped themselves once more behind Hamilton’s back, Thomas pressed Hamilton further up against the hotel door until his head hit the wood. He twined his hands back into the man’s dark hair, which had fallen now completely from his disheveled ponytail. Thus positioned, Thomas began to rut freely into Hamilton’s mouth.

The man’s throat worked around him as he thrust with increasing vigor. Thomas’s hips rolled as he pressed himself deeply down the man’s throat, relishing in the sounds he protracted. Hamilton gagged loudly under the assault, a wet disgusting sound that went straight into Thomas’ cock. Even better, Thomas was privy to see the tears of exertion that leaked from Hamilton’s eyes, which continued to stare with an unexhausted hunger up at him. 

On the cusp of release, Thomas shoved his way to the back of Hamilton’s throat, which sputtered and contracted against him. Hamilton gagged loudly and Thomas came with a groan, keeping his cock buried deep in the young man’s throat, which swallowed reflexively around him. Remaining buried in deep for several long seconds, he reveled as Hamilton’s sputtering became real gaging for air. He gazed triumphantly at Hamilton’s red face, lips stretched obscenely around his cock, as his eyes shone and begged. He began to cound the seconds, watching a truly magnificent blush bloom red and then purple across the man’s shining face. After a few more seconds, Hamilton’s chest began to heave as it attempted to find air with no result. Yet, still, Hamilton’s hands remained clasped tightly behind his back. His eyes with like the blackness of space, blown so wide Thomas could see his own reflection. 

A beat. Another few seconds. 

Hamilton’s gagging grew louder. His shoulders began to shake. 

There was no more challenge in Hamilton’s eyes. His face was open and honest – expression sincere beneath his strain. While his body shook, a sort of serenity at last crept over the other man’s face. 

Thomas pulled out.

He released the man’s hair and Hamilton’s head came falling to rest his forehead against Thomas’ thigh, coughing and shuddering for air. 

Sated and without Hamilton’s incessant buzzing in his ears, it was easy for Thomas wait a few moments before to reaching down pull again at the man’s hair, tugging him until he crawled with Thomas to the hotel bed. His cock hung swollen and full between his legs. Pulling over the covers, Thomas bent down and easily hefted the smaller man onto the bed, laying him down as a limp sack of limbs on his back.

Thomas leaned over the body to capture Hamilton’s wet lips in an almost chaste kiss – the only thank you he was willing to offer. Working his way down the man’s jaw, he bite on the hard muscle of his neck, before working on the tender skin at his collar.

Reaching down he took Hamilton’s cock in hand, gripping him tightly as he fisted him once – twice – a scarce dozen strokes before a hot splash of come washed over his hand and splattered onto Hamilton’s thighs. Hamilton panted heavily, breath hitching with every stroke before he came, remarkably silent. 

They lay with twin racing heartbeats for several long minutes. Hamilton’s eyes were wide and zoned out as Thomas continued to lick and nip his mark onto the other’s neck. As they settled, Thomas got up to fetch a wet washcloth and wiped them both down, Hamilton remaining lax under his ministrations. 

It was only some twenty minutes later, when Thomas had pulled them into a classic spooning position and turned out the light, that Hamilton stirred. He turned his face towards Thomas and grinned almost lazily. 

“You left a mark,” he complained.

“You’ll survive.” 

Hamilton just hummed, looking for once deprived of energy to respond. Thomas pulled the man in closer - because Thomas was a big cuddler, even if he hated the man in his arms on a daily basis – and scooting in behind him. 

As they lay there in the dark, heartbeats slowly coming down, a thought occurred to him.

“You never did tell me what was so urgent that you had to knock on my door at three in the morning.”

“Really?” said Hamilton. “I thought I made it quite clear. I guess I’ll just have to show you again in the morning.” 

Thomas’ answering smile was merciless.


End file.
